Some fear blades, as if they can cut through into the soul,
But I love the devices that dull pain radiating through my whole.
The addiction, it began when the burdens piled up,
And my beverage of choice became poison in a cup.

Pills look appetizing in large amounts,
And the edge of that building seems built to mount.
It's hard to understand how someone can hate life so much,
That measures leading to death seem not like a crutch.

Rather, they seem like cures for this poison,
And honestly, I could care less whether or not it's sin.